Devil in her heart
by espiyo
Summary: An alternative ending to 9.7 for Harry and Ruth, so some minor spoilers for that ep. Disclaimer: Kudos / The BBC own all.
1. Chapter 1

**This one was prompted by my watching 9.7 - yet again, and shouting 'hug her, you fool!' at various points in the episode - yet again.** **Not sure that it's turned out quite as planned, and even less sure that it rings remotely true, but here it is, probably a two parter. Brickbats and bouquets both equally welcome!**

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><p>Sliding the safety catch on, he slipped the gun into his pocket.<p>

Ruth exhaled, and shaking her head went over to Deery. Gently she touched his arm. 'It's over now. It's going to be okay.'

His lips moved, but no words emerged.

'An ambulance will be here soon and we'll get you checked out. You're going to be fine.'

A CO19 radio burst into life and Deery flinched. As if on cue, Harry began barking orders and all of a sudden the room was full of people, of voices, of noise. Unable to bear the clamour, Ruth made her way outside, oblivious to the words Harry addressed to her, to his outstretched arm, the concern on his face. Leaning against the garden fence she closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow, then all of a sudden her stomach revolted, and stumbling to the kerb she vomited. As she slumped to her knees she was aware of a flash of blue at the periphery of her vision, then a tentative hand on her back and murmured words of comfort. When there was nothing left to come she sank back onto her heels, too exhausted to think of even standing. Almost unwillingly, she let herself be lifted to her feet and the arms tightened around her as she swayed unsteadily.

'Can you walk?'

'Mm.'

'Right, well, I'm not waiting for an ambulance. I'm taking you in.'

Somehow, with Harry's arm around her shoulders, she forced her limbs to move, down the street, across the road, and into the car.

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><p>'She's sleeping peacefully now. We need to run more tests, and we'll keep her in overnight for observation, but she's going to be fine.'<p>

Harry sucked in a lungful of air. 'Can I sit with her for a while?'

'Sure.' He indicated diagonally across the corridor. 'Last on the left before the swing doors.'

As the Registrar went to move off, Harry asked, 'Um, Mr Deery. How is he?'

'Physically speaking, he got off fairly lightly, just minor lacerations, but he's taken it all pretty badly, I'm afraid.'

Harry nodded. 'Okay, thanks.'

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><p>To his dismay, Ruth was in a four bed ward and two of the other beds were occupied. She lay, curled up, facing away from him. He drew the curtain the length of the bed, sat down, and prepared to wait. Almost immediately the steady beep of the monitors was joined by the chirping of his mobile phone. Cursing, he fished it out of his pocket and walked over towards the doorway.<p>

'Yes?'

'Harry, it's Dimitri. How's Ruth?'

'Sleeping. She's being kept in overnight but no lasting damage hopefully.'

'Thank god for that. Um, what time will you be back on the Grid, d'you think? We've got to..'

'Tomorrow at the earliest.'

'Tom...?'

Without further ado, Harry cut the call and switched off his phone. As he turned back to the bed he saw that Ruth had turned over, and was awake.

'Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep,' he whispered.

'It's fine. I'm awake now.'

'How are you feeling?'

'I don't know yet.' Grimacing, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. 'Sore.'

For the first time, Harry saw the burns on her wrists, and the garland of bruises that was beginning to bloom on her neck. Distressed, he rubbed at his forehead. 'Ruth, what on earth were you thinking...heading off without backup, or talking to me first...'

Her eyebrows lifted. 'You wouldn't have believed me, Harry. You'd have patted me on the head and told me to get back to counting paper clips.'

'That's not...'

'That _is_ true. But I decided that The Case of the Dog Poo and the Paper Fragments merited further investigation...'

'There's no need to be sarcastic...'

'...and I thought that with a bit of luck I might just get a bit of excitement and be drugged, tied up, burned, thumped, half-strangled..oh yes, and flung into a shelving unit for good measure.'

Harry stared at her, aghast.

'But the turning into some kind of-of She-Devil and getting to empty a gun into another human being, well, that was just a bonus.'

As an angry retort formed on his lips, he realised that her eyes were full of tears.

'Oh, Christ,' he muttered, and protocol and months of hurt were forgotten as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms.

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><p>She was standing at the window, her forehead pressed against the glass. Warily he laid the canteen's offerings down on her table.<p>

'What's the matter?'

'I just went to see Keith Deery. He's in a bad way, Harry.'

Harry slumped into his chair. 'He's been through a terrible ordeal. You both have. But he's in the best place. He'll be fine.'

He could see her stiffen. 'You don't know that. And he's had a history of depression, of mental health problems. This could be what...'

'Ruth, will you please just concentrate on getting yourself better? You're not to blame for what happened, Rigaut is.'

'But maybe if I'd listened to him, if I'd believed him when he first walked in...'

'If ifs and ands,' said Harry softly. 'It's pointless thinking like that. It changes nothing and it doesn't make you feel any better. Come on, get back into bed and have a sandwich. You must be starving by now.'

Although she'd slept through dinner, Ruth shook her head. 'No thanks, I'm not hungry. Um, where are my clothes?'

Harry indicated the cabinet beside him. 'In there. Why?'

'Can you give me five minutes to get dressed? Then I need you to take me home.'

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><p>Had it been anyone else, he would have trusted their judgement; would have expected it even, but Harry's reaction to her discharging herself against doctor's orders had been one of anger. She knew it was fuelled by worry, and glancing at him, brow furrowed, face drawn with tiredness as he navigated their way through the night-time traffic, she couldn't find it in her to be annoyed.<p>

As they pulled up outside her flat, he told her in a tone that brooked no argument that he was coming in to make sure that she was okay; yet she saw a flicker of surprise as she agreed without demur. They walked up the stairs in silence, and in the flat he was the one ill at ease, repeatedly getting in her way as she hung up her coat, put the kettle on, fed the cat.

'Harry, go and sit down.'

'No, look, I should be doing all that. You sit down. Please.'

Half amused, half exasperated, she manhandled him out of the way and got a carton of milk out of the fridge. 'I'm fine.'

'Well, let me do _some_thing. Make you something to eat. Actually, make us both something to eat. I left those bloody sandwiches by your bed.'

'There is something you could do,' she said quietly. 'Stay tonight.'

He hesitated. 'Wouldn't you rather have Beth keep an eye on you?'

Ruth shook her head. 'She moved out a few weeks ago. But I don't mean stay to keep an eye on me.'

Only now did she turn from the cupboard she'd been foraging in and take in his startled face. 'Please, Harry.'

Finally he found his voice. 'Ruth, you've been through a horrible ordeal today, and - and how you feel right now, it's just part of the comedown from the adrenaline rush. It's not...it's not real.'

'It may be part of the comedown, but I can assure you it's real. Do you honestly think this is the first time I've wanted you to take me to bed?'

'I-I...' His face scarlet, he ran a hand through his hair, stalling for time. 'Perhaps not, but at this point in time we hardly even have a good working relationship, and sleeping together is only going to complicate things.'

The kettle clicked off and Ruth poured water into the mugs. 'Harry, I'm not proposing marriage, just no-strings sex. Who knows, it may be just what we need to break the circle of this...of all this dancing around each other that we've been doing for so long. Or it may make us realise that we're just not meant to be.'

'God almighty,' he muttered. 'I should've insisted they give you that bloody MRI. Ruth, this isn't you, and for all my spirit of romance deserted me at Ros's funeral, I don't want our first time to be a post-trauma, mindless, frantic..._fuck_. Nor do I want you to wake up tomorrow regretting it and resenting me. Well, not any more than you do already.' He took the mug she offered him and slumped against the wall, chest heaving, unable to meet her eye.

'Okay,' she said, 'well, I'm going to have a shower. Can you order a takeaway?' She rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a leaflet. 'Chinese, I think.'

He nodded but made no move to take it, so she laid the menu down on the worktop and cradling her mug of tea she left the room.

Aware that he was supposed to order the food then follow her, Harry's mind drifted to the thought of Ruth under the shower, naked, wet, wanting him. He groaned. As if in sympathy with his plight Fidget sashayed over and rubbed her head against his leg. He reached down and scratched behind her ear.

'Even if I thought it was a good idea,' he told her, 'I need _all _my flesh to be willing, and my knee and my back? No chance.'

With a sigh he reached for the menu.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thank you so much for all the reviews! Each and every one is very much appreciated.**

**I'm really sorry for the delay in updating; long hours and six days at work this week. I was also worried about this chapter being a total let down and so chopped and changed it about fifty times. Fingers crossed this version gets it about right!**

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><p>By the time the doorbell rang with their delivery, Ruth was trying on her fourth outfit. She knew that the brazen hussy look would have Harry running for the hills, just as she knew that Beth might have a problem with her definition of the term, but the line between subtly seductive and an ardour-crushing display of cuts and bruises was proving a fine one. If she was indecisive about her outfit, her decision as to how she wished the evening to end gave her no qualms. Perhaps it was an adrenaline comedown. Perhaps her brush with death had disentangled her emotions and clarified her thoughts. She neither knew nor cared. The ball was in Harry's court; all she had to do was make sure he didn't pick it up and run off home.<p>

As she smoothed the pale blue cotton over her hips she heard him calling her. It would have to do.

'Coming!'

A dab of lipgloss, a dusting of blusher, then she offered up a silent prayer to any god who might feel kindly disposed towards her, and went to join him.

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><p>As she entered the kitchen she was confronted with the incongruous sight of Harry, unpacking foil containers, clad in her Cath Kidston apron. Glancing over he caught her smile.<p>

'What?'

'The..er...apron. Roses become you.'

He waggled a finger. 'You have obviously never tried to get hot and sour sauce out of a Savile Row shirt.'

'Not lately, no. Did you remember to warm the plates first?'

'Ruth, I'm not completely useless.'

'And how much did you order anyway? For crying out loud, Harry, there's enough here to feed the entire Grid!'

'Well, my stomach feels like my throat's been cut, so don't you dare invite them.' He tipped the soup into bowls and the prawn crackers onto a plate then placed the remaining containers into the oven to keep warm. 'Don't suppose you have any lager?'

'Lager? No. I didn't realise you drank it.'

'Best thing with a Chinese. White wine, then?'

Ruth opened the fridge door and scanned the bottle rack. 'Sauvignon Blanc or Chardonnay? Or I've got Prosecco if you fancy some fizz.'

'Prosecco. Live dangerously.'

'Okay. Um, would you mind opening it? I don't think my wrists...'

'Of course.'

As he opened the wine she got out the glasses and put them on the worktop in front of him.

'Actually, are you sure you're up to this? It's only a few hours since you were drugged, and even fewer since you were throwing up all over the place.'

'Thanks,' said Ruth, drily, 'but I'm sure the chloroform has worn off and it's not as if we're talking phaal here. Plus I'm hungry now so that has to be a good sign.'

'What about the booze though?'

She looked at him. 'Just pour, Harry.'

Suitably chastised, he did as he was bid.

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><p>Halfway through the soup, Ruth realised that she didn't have a clue how to seduce him. In her limited experience, it had always been the man who made all the running. And yet here was Harry, tucking into his hot and sour soup with gusto, chatting happily about the upcoming Rugby World Cup and seemingly immune to the effects of her Wonderbra. She knew the theory, of course; as a student she'd read Cosmo like everyone else; but truth be told she generally preferred a more reactive role in the whole thing. Slipping off her sandal, she trailed her foot along his instep, then slowly worked on his inner ankle bone and, nudging under the hem of his trousers, his inner leg. For a few seconds he seemed oblivious, then, swallowing a mouthful of his soup, he chuckled,<p>

'For god's sake, Fidget, you're as bad as Scarlet! You've just been fed!'

Aghast, Ruth froze, and then tentatively withdrew her foot, simultaneously ducking her head to her bowl so he wouldn't see the colour blooming on her cheeks. Harry, however, resumed eating his soup as if nothing had happened, and much to her relief he didn't glance over to the other side of the room, where he would have seen Fidget lounging contentedly on the windowsill.

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><p>Despite her protests, Harry insisted on doing the clearing up, so Ruth leaned against the kitchen doorway keeping him company as he worked his way through the dishes. Emboldened by the Prosecco, she tried another tack. 'Harry...'<p>

'Mm?'

'One thing we've never talked about...well, there's lots of things we've never talked about, but have you...did you... 'She sighed. 'When I was away. Was there...'

'No.'

'You don't know what I was going to say.'

'Yes, I do. You were trying, in your own inimitable way, to ask if I had a relationship with anyone.' He turned to her, eyebrow raised. 'Yes?'

'Yes.' She pondered. 'Nobody at all? Are you sure?'

He gave a wistful smile. 'Trust me; it's been so long, the chances of my forgetting are nil to non-existent.'

'Long? How long...roughly?'

'Ruth!'

'Sorry, sorry.' She paused. 'It is a bit like riding a bike, you know.'

As he poured the dish water down the sink, Harry muttered under his breath as a teaspoon revealed itself at the bottom of the washing up bowl. 'Sorry, what's like riding a bike?'

'Sex. No matter how long it's been, once you're back in the saddle, metaphorically speaking...or perhaps literally... No, okay...you quickly get back into the swing of things, so to speak.'

Harry's head had slumped onto his chest.

'Is-is that what you're worried about? Being unable to...you know?'

'Oh dear god.' Stripping off his rubber gloves, Harry draped them at the edge of the sink and cast around for a teatowel. 'No,' he said shortly.

'Well then!' Moving over to him her fingertips found the small of his back. She felt his breath catch.

'I don't resent you, Harry,' she said, softly. 'It's just...it's complicated.'

'Exactly!' He birled round, momentarily startled to find her standing quite so close to him. 'And since when did sex _ever_ make _any_thing more straightforward?'

'It clarifies things sometimes.' Reaching up she clasped his head, her thumbs gently stroking across his cheekbones. 'One night,' she murmured. 'And if sparks fly, we'll be glad we did it. And if they don't, well, at least we'll know.'

Harry unfurled the fingers clenched around the worktop edge and lifted her hands away. 'And if sparks fly, and it's one night only, do you really think I'll be able to bear that? Business as usual on the Grid tomorrow morning after I finally make love to you when I've dreamed of precious little else for so long?' Shaking his head he released her hands.

'Do you really think I could be so heartless?'

'I don't know, Ruth. I didn't think you'd proposition me for a one night stand!'

'So what do you propose? A few more years of lingering looks, brief touches, late night tête à têtes?'

'They're banned for starters,' he responded gruffly.

'And how long do you think it'll be before you pull away when I touch you? Before you can't bear to look at me like that? Before you can't bear to look at me at all?'

'Don't.'

'We-we have to do something Harry. And tonight, when for whatever reason I don't want to be on my own, that seems as good a time as any to start.' Standing on her tiptoes she laid her hands on his chest and brushed her lips against his. She felt him tense and his head reared back. Opening her eyes she looked at him, and her heart jolted at the pain that looked back at her. 'Let me love you, Harry,' she whispered.

As a thousand emotions surged through him, all rational thought evaporated.

And closing his eyes, he dipped his head to hers.

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><p>The grey light of dawn was beginning to creep through the gap in the curtains as Ruth, halfway between sleep and wakefulness, reached for him. It took a moment for it to register that her fingertips were resting on cold cotton rather than warm skin. Groggily she opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow.<p>

'Harry?'

She reached for the bedside light and gave a sigh of relief as she saw his clothes amid the trail along the floor, the bare hook on the back of the bedroom door.

She got out of bed, and pulling on his shirt went along to the bathroom.

'Harry?'

It was in darkness.

She padded into the living room. In the half light she could make out his figure hunched on the sofa.

'Hey,' she said softly. She sat down beside him and rubbed his back through the thick towelling of her dressing gown.

'First roses, now pink; is there anything I should know?'

In the moment that she sensed his smile, she also realised that he was crying.

'Harry? What's wrong?'

He dragged his palms down his cheeks. 'Ohhh. Nothing. I'm fine.'

'Trust me, I know when 'fine' is anything but, and this is anything but.'

He exhaled a long, shuddering breath. 'Just a bit...overwhelmed and apprehensive, and...a million and one things, really.'

'Regretful?'

'Christ, no.' He took her hand in his. 'Whatever happens now, there are no regrets.'

She leaned into him.

'There-there were one or two, weren't there? Sparks, I mean.'

The hope in his voice almost broke her heart.

'One or two? Come off it.'

Silence.

'Oh. Right.'

Her free hand edged under the dressing gown. '_Sparks_, Harry? That was bloody fireworks.'

He stared at her for a moment, hardly daring to breathe. 'So does that mean...'

The hand moved lower. 'It means whatever you'd like it to mean.'

'Really?'

'Mmm.' She nuzzled his earlobe. 'So long as that doesn't mean business as usual.'


End file.
